What Smell Can Do
by Asarath Metreon Sinthos
Summary: "I smell freshly mowed grass and apples, new parchment and spearmint... toothpaste." Dramione Kinda Fluffy but I couldn't help myself. V V


"I smell freshly mowed grass, apples, new parchment, and spearmint toothpaste," H.G.

Not many new that Draco's favorite fruit was an apple. The taste was good, sure, but it was the idea behind it, too. The idea that it was all forbidden, the knowledge, the power, the idea that one would quite possibly die if one were to eat that particular fruit. After he had heard that, he simply had to have it. He had always had a craving for forbidden things, had a taste for danger. But even Draco Malfoy had morals. Heck, even the only reason he 'hated' Harry Potter was because everyone else loved him and a challenge was always welcome in Draco's eyes.

His so-called-best-friend, Blaise Sabina, didn't know why he liked it so much. After all, peppermint was so much sweeter, and spearmint left a slight stinging on your tongue, but D- much preferred spearmint. He even used spearmint toothpaste, even if his had to go to the Muggle London to get it and risk a flogging from Father to get some. But the thrill, the taste, it was all worth it. After all, his girlfriend never complained either. In fact, she quite liked the taste, as he had seen her liking her lips in class after their little run-in in the closet.

Not many people knew that on the first Saturday of each month, Draco would go down to the owlery to pick up one specific package. He would then take this package up to his dormitory, and only after making sure that no one was there, open it very slowly, savoring the sound of the paper ripping ever so slowly in his hands. He would then take out his precious new parchment, feeling the crisp paper that, if he moved his hand ever so slightly, would cut his fingers with a sting that would last at least an hour after the fateful encounter. He loved the smell of new parchment. The sight of bringing out a new piece of parchment every time he had to take notes or write a paper was so satisfying that he almost didn't want to mark the paper with his writing. That was why he had obsessed over learning his now impeccable script, each swirl of his quill, instead of turning the paper into some hideous thing, now turning it into a master piece of writing. A partnership, a dance between his quill and the new parchment that Draco was only too willing to watch as his hand took over the writing, his muscle memory making his note-taking a work of art, even if he was rushed.

Draco often took walks in the Malfoy gardens just after the house elves had cut the grass and took care of the flowers, except for his white and black roses. He had made it clear to them not to touch his roses when he was home and only one specific house elf was allowed to take care of them when he was at school and only after he had taken great care to teach the house elf exactly how he liked his roses cut and pampered (and yes, I do mean pampered). Not many people knew that black roses had a positive meaning as well as a negative one. When giving a black rose to a loved one, it meant that this person was so well loved by the giver, that the giver would willingly die for this person, a commitment that is so deep and rare, much like the flower itself. But on the negative, it can also mean the death of a loved one, a loss that would be felt deeply by the giver, as if the giver had lost a part of their own soul, nearly as painful as a Horcrux in the making. On the side of the white rose side, it was to remind Draco of a part of him that he would never see again. A white rose is meant to symbolize purity, an innocence that one might see in a child, a love so pure that those who are called to witness it are blessed by it.

Oh yes, Draco was very partial to his roses, so much so that he would only give them to his mother on Valentines Day, which she immediately thanked him with a mind blowing kiss that left him blinking absently after her as she nearly ran all the way to Gryffindor Tower to put them in water with a No Wilting charm so they would keep.

After that fateful Potions class, Draco was still writing on his parchment, it was about two - to - three weeks old and Draco was eagerly awaiting the arrival of the new month so that his new parchment could come in. Hermione slowly walked around to the back of the room to where he was writing the last of his notes so that he could go to dinner. She circled his chair and skimmed her nose up his neck to his ear and whispered, "Parchment,t leave him.

"Spearmint toothpaste and..." she kissed him and again only this time when they had finished, she was the one moaning with desire. "Apples," she said after she had regained her breath. Draco just looked at her, wondering who he had to thank for this lovely, loving woman walking into his life and stealing his heart away.


End file.
